Бентли Литтл - The Disappearance

The sheriff walked back into the room. “Morning shift’s here,” he said. “We’re ready for action.”

“Did you contact your guys who are out there?” Gary asked.

“Quiet night. Nothing unusual. All clear.”

“Then we should get going,” Reyn said.

They thanked the sheriff, double-checked the phone numbers they had to make sure they were correct, grabbed some fresh doughnuts and coffee from the break room, then went outside. The air was cool and smelled of smoke—someone in town was using a fireplace—but it was obvious that the day was going to be warm. An old man atop a muddy tractor drove slowly down the center of the street.

Gary, Reyn, Stacy and Brian got into the rented Nissan. Reyn drove, with Brian as navigator, and Gary sat in back with Stacy. They pulled around the tractor, still slowly making its way through town, then turned onto a side street just past a feed and grain supply store. The street sloped down a gradual incline past a few blocks of small run-down houses, then turned into a dirt road and began winding through copses of trees and boulder-strewn hillsides, following the lay of the land. They passed a single farm with a walnut tree orchard, and then there was only wilderness.

And then there was the Home.

They could see it from afar, a collection of interconnected buildings on a slight rise of open land. It looked bigger than it had in the photographs and, despite its generic appearance, more intimidating. Along the side of the narrow dirt road, conforming to the boundaries of the property, was a wrought-iron fence eight to ten feet high, in the center of which was the arched gateway topped by a cross that they’d seen in the pictures.

Reyn stopped the car several yards away from the open gateway, parking next to an overgrown bush that hid the vehicle from the buildings. They all opened their doors and got out. “All right,” Gary said. “Let’s go.”

Brian faced him. “And do what exactly?”

“Try to sneak in.”

No one moved. Reyn looked at Stacy. Brian looked at Reyn.

“What is it?” Gary asked. “What’s going on?”

“You can’t come with us,” Reyn said.

“What?”

“They know you. They sent people all the way to California to get you. You think they don’t know what you look like? They probably have Wanted posters with your mug plastered all over that damn place.”

“They know all of us,” Gary pointed out. “We were all drugged at the same time at Burning Man, and whoever did that kidnapped Joan and brought her back here. He—or they —will recognize us instantly.”

“Hence the sheriff’s break-in strategy,” Brian said drily.

“We’ll disguise ourselves as penitents,” Gary suggested. “They might not recognize us if we’re dressed like them.”

“Two problems,” Brian pointed out. “We don’t have any of their peasant clothes to put on, and we don’t know shit about their religion. One short conversation with anyone and we’d be spotted as fakers in three seconds flat.”

“I told you we should have come up with a plan before we got here,” Stacy said.

Brian held his hand out toward Reyn. “Give me the key.”

Reyn tossed him the key, and Brian used it to open the trunk. He rummaged through the backpack he’d brought and pulled out a knife. Some sort of camping knife, it had a green handle with a built-in compass, and a heavily serrated blade that glinted in the early-morning sun.

“What the hell is that?” Stacy demanded.

“These are kidnappers and rapists. Child molestors, maybe. We can’t just walk in with good intentions and sunny smiles. We need to be ready.”

Thank God , Gary thought. He again wished he’d thought to bring a weapon, and he was glad that at least Brian had come prepared.

“I have one for each of you,” he said.

Stacy crossed her arms, shaking her head. “No,” she said emphatically.

“I don’t think it’s a good idea,” Reyn concurred.

Gary stepped forward and took the proffered knife. Joan was in that place. If he found out that she’d been raped, he would gut the motherfucker who’d done it, no questions asked. His fingers tightened around the handle. It felt reassuringly solid in his hand. He followed Brian’s lead and pushed the knife beneath his belt on his right side, untucking his shirt and pulling it over the weapon to hide it.

“Violence isn’t the way,” Stacy admonished them.

“We’re not going to start anything,” Brian countered. “We just need to be able to defend ourselves.”

“You’re going to end up dead. Or in jail.”

“We’ll be careful,” Gary promised, but again he felt that bloodlust as he thought about what might have been done to Joan.

“I’ll go in,” Stacy said. “You’re Joan’s boyfriend, Reyn’s your friend, I’m Reyn’s girlfriend. I’m the furthest degree of separation from the source. If anyone’s going to be able to get by them, it’s me.”

“They know all of us,” Gary explained again.

“We could pull a Wizard of Oz ,” Brian said. “Jump some guards, steal their clothes, sneak inside.”

“Or jump a penitent,” Reyn suggested. He pointed. Walking down the road, from the opposite direction from which they’d come, was a man like those they’d seen striding down the highway in the dark hours before dawn.

Even this far away, even in broad daylight, there was something creepy about him, Gary thought. The fanaticism and true belief required to make a person walk mile after mile, through some of the most godforsaken terrain known to man, lent the penitent a focus that seemed almost inhuman, and even though his body was clearly tired, almost exhausted, he pushed himself on, continuing zombielike down the road.

And he was smiling.

The smile was the worst.

They watched as he reached the gate, turned in and started up the sloping driveway toward the Home.

“I think the best approach is the simplest,” Reyn said finally. “I say we just walk up and demand to see Joan. If they turn us down, we’ll think of something else. If they try to capture us, we’ll fight back and escape. We’ll also have legitimate cause to call in the law.” He touched Stacy’s arm. “You wait in the car. Pull it up to the head of the drive. Be ready to take off if we run back. If anything happens to us, get the sheriff.”

“I like it,” Gary said.

Brian nodded, patting his hip where the knife rested below his shirt. “I’m in.”

Stacy took a deep breath. “Okay,” she said reluctantly. “But be careful. Just… be careful.”

Brian gave her the car key, and Reyn gave her a kiss. “Keep an eye on us,” he told her. “Anything weird happens, call it in. The sheriff has those two men out here.” He looked around. “Somewhere. They can be on those guys in seconds.”

Stacy held his hand tightly. “I don’t like this.”

“I don’t, either,” Reyn admitted. “But it’ll all be over soon.”

“I think they say that in The Wizard of Oz ,” Brian muttered to Gary.

Stacy returned to the car while the three of them continued onward. They all reached the gate at the same time, and she rolled down the window and blew Reyn a kiss while exhorting him once again: “Be careful!”

If all went right, he’d be kissing Joan soon, Gary thought.

The possibility made his heart race—though with anticipation or fear he could not tell.

They started up the narrow, rutted driveway. The penitent was gone, swallowed up by the Home, and Gary wondered if they were being watched as they trudged up the drive toward the compound. He took out his cell phone and pressed the key to automatically dial the number of the sheriff that he’d input into the device. Nothing had happened—